Night
by Moonlit Fall
Summary: Post-Abyss. It was supposed to be a simple mission, but with night approaching and Oz missing, Gil fears the worst for his master. Will Oz still be Oz when Gil finds him? How could he ever have left him alone?


The rain is cold on his skin. Gil scowls, glancing back behind him and running a weary hand through his hair.

"Would you hurry up?"

Alice huffs out something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, yet the slap of her boots on the wet cobblestone quickens. Gil is grateful, though he'll never admit it to her face.

They turn another corner, the few people on the streets at this hour of night giving them strange stares as they pass. Gil's stomach twists itself in knots. He left Oz behind, _why_ did he leave Oz behind with evening setting on like this?

Candles flicker in shop windows, casting strange shadows that seem to move in the darkness. They were on a mission, there could be chains lurking. Gil grits his teeth, fighting the urge to call for his master. They're almost there, he'll be waiting for them, right where Gil left him, he's sure of it. He swallows. He shouldn't have left him alone.

If only Alice hadn't run away.

Oz's reassuring promise to stay put flashes through his mind, bright like the sunset that had glowed behind him, flickers of sunlight touching his hair like a halo.

Somewhere in the distance, a raven crows.

Gil stumbles around the last corner, out into the open market area where Oz is supposed to be, heart stopping as he takes in the empty square.

The bag of meat—Alice's victory—hits the ground with a squelch.

Alice skids to a stop behind him, panting and angry. Her eyes lock on the discarded meat and she grabs the back of his coat furiously. "What do you think you're doing? How dare you disrespect—"

Gil rounds on her, frenzied hands seizing her shoulders. " _He's gone!"_

Alice raises an eyebrow at him. His already pounding heart thunders against his chest in fury and terror. Doesn't she understand? _Oz_ is _gone._ Alone. In the city, by himself, on a deserted and rainy night like this. It was the kind of night you might find in a fairytale, gloomy and chilled, the perfect weather for monsters to lurk—be they mythical or mortal.

"You look over there, I'll go through these alleys. He couldn't have gone far!"

He spins away from her without waiting for an answer, clenching his teeth and pulling his hat low over his head to block his face from the drizzle. Why? What reason could Oz have had for wandering off like this?

For that's all it was. It had to be.

Thoughtlessness. A prank, perhaps?

Doesn't Oz _know_ what it does to him? Returning, only to find that his precious best friend isn't where he's supposed to be, missing in such a place as this?

But of course, it's so like Oz. Whether a prank or simply a mindless misunderstanding, Gil felt it incredibly possible that his master had followed some stranger, feeling pity—or perhaps a sense of sympathy for their circumstances—and altruistically assuming he could solve all their problems.

Doesn't Oz _know_ by now, doesn't he _see_ , that the world is only darkness, a monstrous place filled with empty shells of what used to be people, kicking and biting and shoving their way to the top of the ladder, only to watch, horrified, as the top rung turns to fire beneath their hands….

But his apparent ignorance, is it the spark? Is it the light, the fire, the _beauty,_ that which makes him so absolutely and entirely _Oz?_

Gil isn't sure.

He swallows down the nausea rising in this throat. Alley, after alley, after alley….yet there's still no sign of his master in the darkness.

 _Dammit, Oz!_

At last, his frantic eyes are able to make out a pair of shapes down a narrow backstreet, shadows against shadows. He stops, shifting to get a better view, and as he does so, the glow of a streetlamp illuminates a shock of golden hair, sopping and clinging to Oz's pale face.

Gil's heart rushes with relief, freezing and dropping into his stomach as he finally comprehends the scene.

Oz is limp, slumped against the other figure, his head lolling to the side as though he no longer has the strength to lift it. Crimson liquid seeps along his shirt, crawling down over his collarbone.

Gil lifts his gun automatically, firing three bullets in a row, though he vaguely understands that only two of them hit. The figure drops Oz, melting into the shadows once again and disappearing into the recesses of the city.

Suddenly Gil is running, his heart pounding, his mind fogged with terror. Oz is alright. Oz _has_ to be alright, and of course he is, because that stranger was merely kissing him, merely drawn in by his radiant beauty and wanting a taste for himself. For that is surely what it was. There's nothing else it can be, no, it couldn't possibly have been anything else, because _vampires_ aren't _real,_ simply a story told to scare rebellious children at night.

Oz is alright.

The Blood Mirror at his neck warms against his skin, reminding him of the Abyssal creature whose blood is inside. _Vampires aren't real._

Oz is alright.

Oz crumples, but Gil's arms are there, folding him close as Gil falls with him, whispering sweet nothings to drown out the sound of his own frantic breathing. Oz's body is slack, nothing but bones and flesh, a thought that terrifies Gil.

 _What if there's nothing left?_

For he can see it now, the deep puncture wounds gouged into his master's throat by a pair of fangs. Blood leaks down his neck, pooling around his collar bone, painted along his jaw. Gil's head spins. He tightens his grip on the blond to keep from falling.

"O-Oz?"

Oz doesn't reply, his eyes glazed, staring hollowly through Gilbert as if he isn't there. His breath is ragged, weak, each intake of air pulling dreadfully up through his chest, the movement so laborious Gil is unsure of how Oz managed to find the strength to complete it.

But it's fading, and fast.

"Oz _please—"_ Gil's voice breaks, and Oz's gaze flickers to him, if only for a moment. The action alights the briefest flame of hope in Gil's heart. Oz's eyes are dim. It flickers.

"It'll be alright," Gil breathes, pulling the thin, trembling body closer into his embrace. He presses his forehead to Oz's, locking their eyes, feeling the other's faint breath on his face. "It'll be a-alright…." His voice wavers, and Oz can tell, for one feeble hand comes to brush along his forehead, to tangle in his hair. Gil covers the hand with his own, closing his eyes for a moment to hide the tears, keep them from creeping out onto his skin.

Biting his lip to hold back a sob, he stares down into the soft green eyes that brought him life through ten years of emptiness, takes in the storm of emotions inside them. Oz stares back, pain and sorrow and even a little fear swirling behind his gaze, and Gilbert feels warm somehow, privileged to be allowed to see such things. Oz doesn't look away, holds his gaze, and the look he sends Gil tears his heart in two.

He can see it. Oz is _allowing_ him to see it, to see _him._

Oz is afraid. Terrified.

Oz doesn't want to die, doesn't want to become the monster they both know he will become.

 _Oz doesn't want to die._

Gil's expression falters, a half-restrained sob tearing from his throat and echoing hollowly through the darkness as he crumbles, tears sliding from his eyes and down his chin, dripping onto Oz's pale face.

This is all his fault.

If only he hadn't been so _stupid—_

Oz's hand shifts, carding weakly through his hair. Reassuring. Speaking without speaking, whispering to Gil's heart that _no, this wasn't your fault. You didn't do this._

 _But I did!_ Gil's heart breathes back, barely even a breath, so soft, so broken with guilt and horror.

Oz opens his mouth, but all he can manage is a shuddering gasp.

Gil moans at the sound, burying his face in Oz's hair and praying desperately for this beautiful light to stay, to stay with him forever like this.

 _Please, please don't leave me here alone._

 _I don't know what I'll do without you._

* * *

 **A/N: This is my first time writing in third-person present tense, so I'm a little nervous about how it turned out XD This is also my first time writing a oneshot, so I had to force myself to quell the following chapters that I have in my head (If you guys want I'll add more chapters, but I intended this to be a quick thing for October.)**

 **I feel like the style some people can get when they write oneshots in this tense is really beautiful and mysterious, but I don't think I captured that with this XD I had a plan with lots of meaning and such...but I got sucked in by the Gilbert angst, so it just became mindless, ugh. I'll work on that, I'm working on another oneshot? (Idk it might have chapters, I can't resist) Right now that will be a little more vampire-centric than this one was. In the spirit of Halloween, of course ;)**

 **I'm also writing a story right now called If I Break, which you can find over on Areli White-Wings' account if you'd like!**

 **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Pandora Hearts doesn't belong to me.**


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